The icy wind that whipped through the snow covered lands did little to penetrate the Scout's heavy russet coat, and she padded on through the dense whiteness in secluded silence, her sharp gray gaze harsh and embittered. The bare branches of the few deciduous trees were laden with ice and snow, and they bent and drooped wearily beneath the onerous weight. The pines still stood green and resolute, the cruel, frigid hands of winter doing little to daunt their towering statures. She had been born in a place like this, an arduous taiga where the snows lasted well into spring. It resembled this world a great deal, wounded and broken and greying with despair. She had seen that before; the only difference was she had not been alone then, and the hellish weight she bore on her shoulders had been far lighter.

She reached the falls after a little while, and she paused her aimless wandering, the deep scars marring her chest and shoulder sore and aching from the strenuous walking. The war had ended not so long ago, and in her failure she had nearly lost her life to the massive ginger and white brute. It was ultimately blood loss that conquered her, and she had been taken forcefully by unconsciousness. Had he been a truly lowly coward, he would have ended her life then and there. Stupid bastard... She thought ruefully as she listlessly kicked up a spray of snow, her expression hard and austere. The wounds were so wide and deep she knew her fur would never grow over them, in spite of its coarse thickness. She couldn't care less about what they did to her appearance; she was never really that alluring in the first place. Still, it agonized her to bear them. It was one thing to display scars won out of victory, mementoes of foes long defeated. Hers were, by stark contrast, marks of failure. The slash arching over her eye was a reminder that she had broken her promise to Usagi, that she had allowed Hasoka to murder her and walk away without consequence. Now the various gashes dashed jaggedly across her chest and shoulder were mere displays of her incompetence, how there were several instances where she had almost defeated him, had almost severed his neck, but had not, and suffered the debilitating guilt of almost, but not quite.

She had not won her skirmish with Banshee at the border either, and through all of these occurrences she had to pragmatically ask herself why. It's because you're reckless, you dolt. She thought, scoffing softly to herself as she sat down lazily in the cool snow. I need real training, and practice. Strategy will only take me so far if I can't implement it properly. Hasoka had possessed the most skilled of tutors and masters for all aspects of his princely training. The only experience she'd had before she took him on was the minor scuffles she often entered with her peevish harassers and what little similarities could be drawn between combat and hunting. If she ever hoped to efface his worthless being from existence, she had to be just as if not more practiced than he.

Her attention drifted over towards the notorious falls, the usually torrential water now frozen over in a comely display of cascading ice scintillating softly in the occasional sunlight that peaked through the clouds. She remembered when she'd fallen from there the winter before; she was certainly not foolish enough to attempt to climb the slope once more. Still, she approached the icy surface of the river below, and she gazed down at her darkened, distorted reflection, her expression vexed and resentful. Her injuries still pained her, and she knew it would take some time for her body to heal. The blood soaked carcass of the territory was in dire need of remediation as well. So many wolves had lost their lives during that atrocious battle, and the world had passed into the cold death of winter soon after, almost seeming to signify their passing. What had they all perished for? What had Lark been murdered for, and her sister Quinn? Why had Usagi died, back then, when she had left her side and returned to find her hanging from their brother's jaws? She was vaguely reminded of what her opponent had snarled at her during their battle. You're Erenyx. Nobody loves you. That's why you're there. You serve a murderous monster that could care less if you died tonight. Your pack mates could care less if you died tonight. You have nobody. She bared her teeth slightly in a silent growl, her claws digging deep into the icy snow beneath her.

That's why wolves die... That's why the world is like this... That's why I lost everything... She thought, her cruel gray glower searing into her reflection with the intensity of a forest fire. It's because of wolves like that, like that asshole Teren, and my traitorous brother. All they do is kill, and take, and slaughter anyone who stands in their way of indulging whatever idiotic frivolity they desire. The monsters of the world... She grit her teeth in indignant agony as she remembered, clearly, every cadaver she had ever seen: Usagi, Lark, Nymph, Remus, Avareth, Marrok, Quinn, countless others whom she could not name. And then there was the fae being held captive in the alpha's den, the she-wolf who had rushed in to rescue her alphess and now awaited tortures too heinous to imagine. She shook slightly with restrained, pained fury as she raised her snout defiantly to the air, letting loose a solemn, mournful howl for every meaningless death she had witnessed, Erenyx and Helidos alike. The sound, though broken, rang sonorous with a raging resolve. It was a promise, to all of them, to her beloved sister, and to herself. For the remainder of her life, she would not rest until the cruel Hell of the world she had been begotten into was rid of every demon hiding in its fervent midsts. She wanted to see how beautiful the winter sky was when the sun peaked out over the billowing clouds, the incredible comeliness of spring grass and wild blossoms, the happiness wrought from the simplicity of listening to the birds chirp from the confines of a warm den. She wanted to see the world her sister had lived in, the beautiful, placid world that somehow remained bright no matter what darkness befell it. For the sake of that idea, for that perception of life that danced happily through her sister's mind and kept her from devolving into total despair, she would erase them all. And deposing the psychopathic despot terrorizing this pack is a good place to start...

The she-wolf was somewhat startled from her determined reverie by the abrupt, oddly familiar voice, and she turned her snout back to glimpse a white pelted male approaching her from behind, the dark cyan of his gaze gradually stirring her memory. "Malachai?" She huffed quietly to herself, her expression only momentarily bewildered until her usually sly, uncouth nature surfaced once more, easily concealing her consternation at seeing him. She smirked grimly, her demeanor relaxing into casual austerity as she regarded him. "Oh, it was some big ginger Helidos brute. Wouldn't know his name, but he most certainly did not walk away unharmed. I'd be surprised if the flea's still walking at all." She sneered, her smug front forcing down the insecurity and depression that had plagued her not long before. "I challenged him during our wonderful dictator Teren's precious little game, which, if I remember correctly, you were not in attendance for." Her voice dripped with incredibly patent sarcasm, and beneath it an unexpected resentment tainted its more friendly undertone.

She had not seen Malachai since before the war, some months ago, it seemed. He had disappeared from the pack altogether by the looks of it then, and the same could be said of a warrior and a guardian who had also vanished. Desertion was the obvious explanation, and she couldn't really claim not to understand their motives when they resided under such a vile excuse for a life form. She had left herself, for a season, to search for her ever elusive target, but she crawled right back when his scent trail disappeared. She'd promised herself she wouldn't ever regret leaving when she did, when her means of revenge had danced so closely within her reach and she was certain her sister's murderer had passed nearby, but she was starting to wonder if choosing Erenyx was truly the best idea. As a pack of fighters, she knew she had the greatest chance of sharpening her skill there, but when it came down to questions of honor, the expected response was far beneath her standards. She admitted she would do anything to afford her sister peace, and to atone for her mistake, but she could never imagine treating someone the same way the wolves she grew up with treated herself and Usagi.

She wondered if that was why he had left; the social constructs of Erenyx had grown too unreasonable, their despotic leader a power drunken fool too callous to notice the world an inch in front of his own snout. Yes, she understood that, but she couldn't help but remember the horrors of that frivolous war, all of the glassy eyes that had gawked unconsciously up towards the merciless heavens, how she'd pushed herself until her body could give no more and her weary legs collapsed beneath her, her vision blurring into fragile darkness from the blood loss. They had all fought, not for that bastard Teren and his ridiculous desires, but for each other, for the pack they had pledged themselves to. He had not been there.

She stood nonchalantly from her position by the stream's icy surface, her former grin washed away to reveal a genuine curiosity not usually displayed behind her indomitable wall of ruthless mocking. "Where did you run off to?" She asked, her usually scathing voice oddly earnest, though her austere expression did bely a noticeable bit of caution. She took a moment to sniff the air, and she instantly caught a foreign scent trailing about him, an alien aggregation of smells that had almost cemented itself into unity. Did he... join another pack?

Yuki listened to the male calmly as he elaborated upon his recent whereabouts, a diminutive smirk pulling at her maw at his smug disposition. So it was as she'd guessed; he'd left because of Teren, and the missing Guardian and Warrior were now his rulers. "My my, is that pride I hear?" She almost snickered, though her teasing wasn't entirely friendly. "The usual emotion meant to accompany treason is shame, you know." Her jocular tone was languid and calm, as if she couldn't care less what he did or who he chose to trail eagerly after. Still, a diminutive fleck of spite glinted in the corner of her flint gray gaze, a bitter feeling she wasn't totally able to reconcile nor pin down. "You have a home now, unlike Erenyx? Were we all really so unbearable?" She asked, her hollow, amused tone hardening with a different kind of venom. She narrowed her eyes slightly as she stared at him for a moment before casting her scathing focus over the frozen water, a sarcastic scoff leaving her maw with a humorless grin. "Right, right, because it's Teren's pack, and we're Teren's minions, and we all must be just like him to slave after him, even though an astonishing number of us would give anything to rip open his belly and feed him his own entrails." She snickered lowly before flicking her attention back towards him, regarding him coolly out of the corner of her eye. "And how messed up is that? We could send that worthless slug straight to hell where he belongs if we all only communicated that intent, and, you know, didn't run away and abandon each other."

She fell silent then, her sharp tongue resting like a coiled serpent in her jaws. So that was what upset her; here she stood, scarred and weary and beaten, a failure, not only to her sister, but every other innocent soul in her pack and on that battle field. She was miserable, infuriated with herself and her own lack of ability, and he was happy and unmarred, because he gave up. It didn't seem fair. But, then again, was it just of her to take her self directed frustration and loathing out on him? She was quiet for another moment before releasing a long, weary sigh, any vehemence left in her demeanor departing with her resentment. "I'm sorry." She muttered gruffly, her tone earnest in spite of its blunt nature. She turned her snout to glance at him directly then, her disposition austere and solemn. "That was... Low, of me. I don't blame you for leaving. Anyone with sense would. And I'm in no position to judge." She huffed quietly to herself, her tired gaze falling to her paws as she dug her claws into the snow. There wasn't any reason for her cruelty, she knew. The only wolf she had to blame for her exasperation and defeat was herself.

She glanced up once more at his next inquire, a diminutive grin of amusement twitching at the edge of her snout and her usual spark and ferocity gradually returning. "What, these little scratches? A bramble thicket could do worse." She raised her head boldly, the long scars around her chest and shoulder on seemingly proud display. "I like to think I've seen worse days. I taught some juvenile how to skin a kill, and I've got plenty of time off doing nothing thanks to my little friend from Helidos." She smirked at her own remarks, any of her former caution or resentment completely effaced. She had forgotten how much she quite liked having someone to talk to; she hadn't spoken openly to anyone since Usagi, and she hadn't ever been that skilled at making friends.

"You're a Delta now, hmm? Is sir a fitting way to address you now, m'lord?" She chuckled softly, her teasing good natured and her demeanor relaxed and easy. "Sounds like a pretty nice gig. What's your lovely little pack like? From that smug look of yours I'd guess they're pretty easy to get along with."